


hands, knees, please, tangerine

by leopardfringe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (sneaky help with masturbation), (they're married!), Anal Fingering, Banter, Established Relationship, Established Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), M/M, Masturbation, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, actually can i count banter as a plot, bc this fic is like 60 percent banter and 40 percent smut, which...look at the relationship material can you blame me lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopardfringe/pseuds/leopardfringe
Summary: Sokka has work to do. Zuko decides that he's going to help out.But as Zuko's hands begin working on his pant laces, Sokka has a feeling that it's nothimthat Zuko is trying to help.-“You’re such a dick.”“You like it.”“Yeah,” Zuko breathes, and when Sokka looks up again at that tone, he’s startled at the sudden desperation in Zuko’s eyes, as they stare at his lips. “And I want it.”
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 281





	hands, knees, please, tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> i have a mostly mapped out zukka longfic in the making, but ended up finishing this first to try to get a handle on how they interact with each other lol hope you enjoy!  
> -  
> title comes from [tangerine - glass animals](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIIoGU5EmhU)  
>  _extended lyric: hands, knees, please, tangerine, sugar, honey, sweet_

“You don’t use your title enough to get what you want, you know.”

It’s the first thing Zuko hears when he walks into his office, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness after navigating fire-lit hallways. The heavy curtains on the windows framing his desk are open as usual, but so are all the others over the windows throughout the room, inviting the afternoon sunshine to pour in and leaving the room so well lit that Sokka hadn’t bothered to light any of the lamps.

“What?” The only other light sources don’t offer much at all, and Zuko figures the two candles burning nearby were lit exclusively for their spiced fragrance.

He spots the reason for all of the extra natural light soon enough; a few of the contraptions once on Sokka’s workbench this morning have now migrated to his desk, settled around stacks of paper and empty dishes. Zuko cocks an eyebrow and looks at his husband lazing in his chair. “Did you eat lunch in my office? How long have you been here?”

He doesn’t know how Sokka does it, but the man always appears larger than life when he’s sitting in that chair. He can’t decide whether it’s because the sharp cut of his blue tunic and bluer eyes stand out in powerful contrast to all of the deep red velvet in the room, or if Zuko simply finds the fact that, even sitting, Sokka’s much taller than the chair back—when his own head barely rises above the headrest—is weirdly hot. His skin tingles in excitement though, every time he sees it.

Sokka glances up at him, smiling soft, and then moves his attention back to the paper in his hands with a chuckle. “Yeah, I did. My last meeting was in this wing, and the kitchen had already made lunch. Didn’t feel like walking all the way back to my own office, so I detoured here.”

Zuko spots the distinct pattern on the handle of his favorite spoon as he moves to take a seat in the chair facing the desk, and his eyes narrow. “Oh, I see. So _you’re_ the reason why my food didn’t come until after my council meeting.”

Sokka’s head snaps up, but Zuko knows it’s not from his accusation. He pointedly doesn’t move while Sokka waits, his eyebrows steadily rising the longer the silence is drawn out, before Sokka finally makes a loud noise of affront and flicks his free hand in exasperation. “Uh, hello, excuse me?”

Zuko tries to hold out longer, to stare down at his husband in a petty challenge, but he cracks embarrassingly quick—he still scoffs and rolls his eyes as he stands, yet his grumbled return of “ _needy_ ” sounds less dismissive and more incredibly fond. Circling the desk, he leans down to peck Sokka on the lips before pulling back to level him with a deadpan stare. “Hello, my love.”

Sokka is totally unfazed by the expression. Instead, his responding grin is dazzling enough to make his eyes crinkle, and he quickly darts forward to happily rub their noses together. Zuko can feel his husband’s smile pressed right on his cheek, and his own lips traitorously quirk up too. “Hello to you too, my beautiful darling Frosty Lord.”

The nickname is horrendous—Zuko suffers from it, but it still makes him laugh. He dutifully continues with the next line, as he stands behind the chair to wrap his arms around Sokka’s shoulders. “And how is my special _thieving_ Ambassador today?”

Guilty eyes flash to Zuko’s spoon, and Sokka coughs loudly as he flicks the evidence under the lip of a bowl and out of sight.

“Okay, so, I may have run into your attendant on my way here, and helped him with all these heavy plates—” There are two plates and a bowl scattered across the desk. Zuko snorts, and he feels Sokka tense. “Hey, I know for a fact you still got your food! Liu Wei stopped by after to let me know!”

“Minister Chen spent the whole time trying to figure out how to complain about the temperature of his food,” Zuko muses, lightly knocking his head against Sokka’s. “I should probably apologize for insinuating that he was just being a pompous dick for thinking Chef Yu would serve anything subpar.”

“No you don’t—he _is_ a pompous dick. Did he wait until you were served to start eating?”

Zuko smirks. “That’s generally what people do here, Sokka, even if you’ve liked to ignore that custom since forever.”

“Then he deserves cold food,” Sokka easily concludes. To celebrate his completely _correct_ judgment, he reaches back to push Zuko’s head down so his chin rests on his shoulder. “Dumb rules beget dumb consequences, and you can put that in writing. Serves him right.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know what you think then,” Zuko shoots back. His mouth wrinkles in amusement at the incredulous look he gets in response. “Stir up some drama, give people something to fight about for the next year.”

“Pretty sure that would only end up with me punching him,” Sokka says, then considers the thought. “Would that be considered treason, or have I outranked him long enough for the Council to be pretty chill about it?”

“No it’s not,” Zuko says, chuckling, but at Sokka’s growing interest he quickly adds, “Sokka, don’t punch my Minister of Finance. He’ll quit, and that’ll just put me back in charge of budgeting. If that happens, then _I’m_ going to quit.”

“Okay, secret sneak boomerang attack,” Sokka hums. “And then I take his position. Win-win.”

“Why do I have a feeling—”

“ _Anyway_!” Sokka hastily interjects, and his quick topic change is accompanied with a heavy drop of his hand on Zuko’s head, his fingers instinctively digging underneath the ribbon of his topknot. “Desk! New one! You need it.”

Zuko scrunches his nose and shakes his head to try to dislodge the fingers without knocking askew his crown, without success. “Is that what you were talking about when I walked in? No I don’t.”

“You can easily commission a better one! Woodworkers would love that!”

“This one’s an antique.”

“Dumb.” Sokka happily replies, because he loves to be openly judgmental about royal artifacts. Zuko blows a harsh gust of air into his neck, making him startle slightly.

“Shut up, this one at least came from my mom’s old rooms. Besides, all I do in here is just read and write, I don’t need something with extra bells and whistles for that.”

“But there’s barely any space for anything, it’s so small!” Sokka starts, and then snaps his mouth shut when Zuko silently pulls his arm out of the way so they can both look at the mess on his desk—which, turns out, to mostly be Sokka’s things. Anything that Zuko thinks is probably his has been carefully pushed away to the edges of the surface.

“Wonder whose fault that is,” Zuko complains, without heat, and laughs into Sokka’s neck at his loud grumble. “Stop acting like you’re not just trying to steal my desk as another workbench. You know, you _could_ have more room for all of your stuff, if you stopped trying to leave all of it in my office and actually use your own.”

“You mean _our_ office,” Sokka smugly corrects, and well—looking around at all of the inventions in progress, the rough blueprint sketches, and the various blue outer robes thrown haphazardly over the back of the reception couch, Zuko supposes Sokka may have a point. Even with all the royal red, Sokka’s presence here is undeniable.

“ _My_ office,” he still mutters. “Go get your own. You can take your weird candles with you too.”

“You mean those very obviously Fire Nation candles?” Sokka asks, tilting his head back to rest against Zuko’s stomach when he straightens up. “I don’t understand how you don’t like how they smell. They smell exactly like that tea you drink, you weirdo.”

From this angle, Sokka’s eyes sparkle in the light shining through the window. This, combined with the soft confidence in his voice has Zuko leaning forward again to hide his reddening face back into the long length of his husband’s neck. “Shut _up_.”

Sokka just chuckles, and Zuko gets revenge by ghosting his lips along the outer shell of his ear before trailing soft kisses down his neck.

His husband reacts beautifully, as he always does when Zuko does this, sucking in a quick breath that has Zuko needing to hide a smile into his skin and nip at his throat, right above his necklace. Sokka’s radiant warmth always feels so good under his tongue; and the interested hum he gets just spurs him on.

Zuko is of the opinion that Sokka deserves to be appreciated at all times, and over the years he’s learned to adopt a more hands on approach when his mouth can’t keep up with his overwhelmingly tender feelings. So, to Sokka’s immense delight, he leaves sweet kisses and tiny smiles all over his neck, and tips down to lick into the dip of a slightly exposed collarbone. Zuko savors Sokka’s small, surprised gasp when his hands sneak up to rub tight circles around his clothed nipples, and his heart beats in growing excitement as he slips his fingers inside the tunic opening to cup a naked pec.

Sokka sharply inhales around a laugh, and his hand rushes up to gently wrap around Zuko’s wrist, preventing him from getting any further.

“ _Wow_ , yes—but also: no-go, babe.” Sokka actually sounds remorseful. “I still have a meeting later.”

“Time is irrelevant to a Fire Lord,” Zuko petulantly says, shocking a snort out of Sokka. “I would like to use my title to get what I want right now, please.”

“ _Please_?” Sokka delightfully mocks. “Oh how _polite_ , your excellency. Would you be so _kind_ then to share what it is you want, Fire Lord Zuko?”

In response, Zuko shakes off the loose grip on his wrist so he can fully shove his hand inside Sokka’s tunic to scratch at his abs, before pushing his fingers just slightly past the waistband of his pants and teasingly brushing through his pubic hair. His other hand leaves Sokka’s chest and down to firmly press a palm against Sokka’s crotch, right at the same time he roughly drags his teeth along the meat of Sokka’s shoulder.

“ _Oh,_ w-whoa _—_ ”

Sokka jerks hard, and moans when the action accidentally causes Zuko’s teeth to bite into his skin more than he had intended. It ignites a fire in Zuko, spreading a heady warmth throughout his body, and under his hand he can feel Sokka eagerly rolling into his touch. He bites at Sokka’s skin just so he can hear him make that noise again, and shivers at how the sound rockets straight to his groin.

“ _Fuck_ , Zuko, wait—” Sokka turns his head to block Zuko’s access to his neck, but it only serves to make Zuko attack his mouth instead. Sokka gasps into the kiss, and immediately works to overpower him; he bites at Zuko’s eager lips, and shoves his tongue inside before Zuko can get the chance to do it first. Zuko whines hard into his mouth—and whines harder, into open air, when Sokka’s hand in his hair yanks his head back and away.

He strains against the hold, but Sokka doesn’t let go. With a pointed glare, he instead moves his palm faster, firmer over Sokka’s clothed cock and smirks at the shaky groan he gets. Sokka’s head falls back to rest on top of Zuko’s hunched shoulder, and the new closeness means Zuko can hear clearly every small whimper Sokka makes as his hips rock up against his hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sokka repeats, pleased and already panting. “ _Yes_ , that feels good, okay, y— _wait_ , hold on, sweetheart, I-I still have work to do.”

With incredible effort, Sokka pulls the hand off his crotch and clamps it to his stomach, effectively also trapping Zuko’s other hand still inside his tunic. He’s twitching slightly, hips still minutely pushing up as if already missing the friction, and it makes Zuko’s mouth water. The hand in his hair loosens slightly, but then Sokka’s head rolls over to look at him out of the corner of his eye, half-lidded in pleasure—and Zuko’s pinned.

Sokka licks his lips, and he has to fight down the urge to whine again.

“Work—I need to send a letter out to an old mentee today, before my next meeting.”

Zuko doesn’t pout, but he is _certainly_ disgruntled. “Can you not work on it after your meeting?”

Sokka laughs, a small breathless thing that makes Zuko’s nerves thrum. “You mean my meeting with the Cultural Committee? The one that always ends up going an hour over and eating up the rest of my day? Yeah, I don’t really feel like waiting until after that to come back and work more, sorry.” Sokka finally lets go of Zuko’s hair to cup his jawline, and presses a lingering kiss on his cheek. “No, I’m _way_ more interested in spending my evening with you, Zuko.”

“Leave my peaceful evenings alone,” Zuko grumbles back, but he can’t hide how he’s mollified by Sokka’s explicit wish to be with him. “How much more do you have to do?”

Sokka leans forward to grab the forgotten letter on the desk. With his hands still pinned against Sokka’s chest, Zuko is forced to tip further over the chair back to move with him before they’re resettled. “Well, I got a little over halfway through reading it before you got here, so now I need to write out a response and send it in the next—” Sokka bends again to check the clock, and Zuko huffs because now Sokka’s just pulling him along on purpose. “Hour and a half.”

“That just tells me you have time.”

“Except you’re a major distraction, so it’ll probably take me the entire time.” Sokka pauses, and Zuko can hear the smirk in his voice when he adds, “I could easily be finished in less than twenty minutes though, with _plenty_ of free time after, if you’re good.”

“Okay,” Zuko says slowly, begrudgingly, to Sokka’s amusement. “Sure.”

When he doesn’t try to pull his hands free in a stubborn contradiction his concession, like he’s prone to do, Sokka chuckles and releases his hold, so he can grab Zuko’s inkstone and some spare paper.

He’s immediately shoved backwards. The hand inside his tunic moves up to pinch at one of his nipples as Zuko drapes his other arm over Sokka’s chest so he can cradle his jaw—and puts his mouth right back on Sokka’s neck to suck at the spot under his ear. Sokka jumps in surprise, but then lets out a loud laugh.

“I _knew_ it, you dick!” His hand flies back up to Zuko’s hair, and he allows Zuko to get in one last firm kiss before he forces his head away. The smile on his face is _far_ too knowing. “Alright, you good? Had your last fill before I banish you to the other side of the desk so I can work?”

Zuko glowers at him. “One more.”

“One more always turns into ten more,” Sokka returns, which— _true_. “Okay, now go away, leave me be, Horny Lord.”

“Stop disrespecting my title,” Zuko snaps, but he obediently pulls away. Sokka points at the chair on the other side of the desk, and Zuko lets out an explosive sigh. He still walks over to it though, and as a token of gratitude Sokka gives his ass a solid smack before he’s out of arm’s length, grinning wolfishly when Zuko scoffs at him.

His glare doesn’t let up after he’s thrown himself into the opposite chair, and Sokka rests his chin on his fist while he happily appreciates the view. Zuko’s cute, and even cuter when he accidentally riles himself up too fast. Even now, his unscarred cheek and ear are lightly flushed, and he keeps fidgeting a little in his seat like he’s fighting himself to stay put.

Sokka totally knows he’s legitimately trying to stay still too. He loves it a lot.

“You started it,” he says, cheerily. Then, as soon as Zuko gets over his split-second shock and launches into a long tirade about how he in fact is _not_ at fault here, Sokka even more cheerfully tunes him out and turns his attention back to his former mentee’s letter.

It’s one he’s not surprised to get. Kalluk was probably one of his most energetic students when it came to learning the whole design and execution process, but their project explanations often left people…frazzled. Sokka got it, since he too once had to train himself out of being long-winded and overly descriptive if he wanted his proposals approved quickly; much of Kalluk’s apprenticeship involved them learning the same techniques to avoid constant headaches with the Council of Elders over project amendments.

Looking down at the five-page letter in his hands, Sokka figures Kalluk did _try_ to be succinct—it’s certainly better than the ten-page letters he’s received in the past. They had at least presented their problem in the first paragraph before letting their nerves take over, so Sokka can forgive the length this time. He breezes through most of the letter with relative ease, stopping only occasionally when Kalluk actually does hit on a probable problem that may explain why the Council denied their proposal again.

Soon enough, he’s able to start grinding the inkstick on the stone as he reads over the last of the letter.

“I can’t believe you,” Zuko grouses, when Sokka pauses in reading to add more water to the stone.

It’s been mere minutes, but Sokka hasn’t acknowledged him since. Also, Zuko hasn’t quite managed to get his heartbeat under control yet; not when he has the perfect view of Sokka’s bitten-red lips and tantalizingly bare chest, where he had opened his tunic— _and_ the sly promise of more, if he lets Sokka work, has kept him squirming the whole time. “Invent a few things and suddenly you don’t pay any attention to your husband.”

“Fire Nation nobility are so needy,” Sokka observes. “Present company included.”

Zuko’s quiet offended noise is exactly what Sokka wanted, and he smirks in satisfaction when Zuko tries to hide his involuntary bristling. It’s been ages since Zuko actually believed his family were direct descendants of Agni and thus of superior class, but still:

“I’m not _nobility._ I’m royalty.”

“That means nothing to me,” Sokka happily says. On the letter, he makes sure to underline a sentence as a reminder to answer that question later.

“ _You’re_ technically royalty too, Sokka.” Zuko tries hard to keep his voice gruff and chastising.

Sokka grins, and points his brush at Zuko in acquiesce. “Okay, true. The hairpin does make it easier to get your council to agree to funding me now, I’ll give you that. But I didn’t really need to marry into the royal family to get my way.” Suddenly, _finally_ , his eyes flit up to Zuko’s with a sly smirk. “You, especially, are needy, and _extremely_ easy—you’d be giving it to me anyway, sweetheart.”

Zuko simultaneously goes completely scarlet, chokes on air, and glares.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You like it.”

“Yeah,” Zuko breathes, and when Sokka looks up again at that tone, he’s startled at the sudden desperation in Zuko’s eyes, as they stare at his lips. “And I want it.”

Sokka is completely unbalanced by the sight; he feels trapped, like he couldn’t move his eyes away from Zuko if he wanted— _needed_ —to, and he’s hit with an exhilarating burst of arousal that burns through his veins and licks between his legs.

They hadn’t had sex right away, when they finally started dating all those years ago, mostly due to their nerves around opening up so _completely_ with each other in such unexplored territory. Once they had though—Sokka learned very quickly the problem of Zuko having a higher sex drive than him.

Which wasn’t actually a _problem_ problem, and more of a problem that Zuko loses his filter when he’s turned on, and also that Sokka likes to indulge him _way_ too much.

He sucks in a quick inhale, an exposed vulnerability, and Zuko pounces on it.

His legs fall open, splayed invitingly wide, and Zuko pushes aside the bottom of his tunic to reveal how hard he still is in his pants. His hips cant, just the barest amount, as he runs his hands up and down the inside of his thighs, and his head tips a little further back every time his palms inch up further, coming closer to his bulge with every pass.

Sokka _hisses_ , and Zuko’s eyes glint in triumphant excitement. His hands fly up to begin working on his pant laces.

“Zuko, your robes—”

The first peek of Zuko’s cockhead punches a rattling groan out of Sokka, and he watches, entranced, as Zuko slowly licks his palm before reaching down to grip himself. His hand instantly starts moving, stroking up and down his shaft in a teasing slowness that draws a gasp from his mouth, and he swallows down a whimper when his thumb brushes around the wet head, spreading the precum there.

It’s deliberate, what he’s doing. Sokka knows, because that’s what _he_ does when he first gets his hands on Zuko; he takes it slow, always relishing the weighty feel of Zuko’s cock and how it twitches in his fingers, purposefully waiting too long before picking up the pace—just so he can hear the angry hitch in Zuko’s voice when he demands Sokka to _go faster, already_.

Zuko takes the concentrated effort to go even slower, visibly straining against his own urge to just fuck into his hand in the way he really _loves_ , and forces himself to look over his nose at Sokka before he starts panting.

Sokka fidgets in his seat, and glares.

“I thought you were going to be good for me? We’re just gonna ignore that now?”

Zuko apparently takes that as his cue to finally start stroking his dick faster, and his relieved moan reverberates through Sokka’s core. “ _Ah_ , y-yeah, I am.”

Sokka clicks his tongue in disappointment, and waspishly replies, “I hope you mess up your robes, _Fire Lord_ Zuko.”

“You don’t care. You’re the one who loves to fuck me in them.”

Sokka’s breath hitches, and just like that, Zuko’s already flimsy filter is gone.

“I’m _right._ ” He stutters a little on the second word, involuntarily lengthening the vowel in pleasure when his other hand comes down to fondle his balls. The slick sound of him fisting his cock sears itself in Sokka’s mind, and makes him lose his sanity a little. “You love getting your hands on me when I’m dressed up like this. Just can’t wait to take your Fire Lord apart, huh?” Zuko’s head falls back a little more when he starts thrusting up to meet his hand, and he lets out a wrecked laugh. “Should I go put my formal robe back on, just so I can convince you to fuck me right now?”

“Spirits, Zuko, I swear—” Sokka lets out a shakily long, amused groan; he can’t tear his gaze away from how Zuko’s hips keep jerking up and grinding into the bottom of his fist. He’s relatively certain Zuko is exaggerating a little to put on a perfectly persuasive show, but that doesn’t stop him from suddenly being engulfed in jealousy because dammit—he _wants_. “You’re evil.”

He roughly runs a hand over his face, and then firmly pushes his own head down so that when he takes his hand away, he’s looking straight at his unfinished reply. Sokka glares at it.

Zuko, naturally, does not appreciate this.

Almost instantly, he lets out a string of moans, intermixed with stuttering pants of Sokka’s name.

Sokka nearly smacks himself when he brings a hand to his forehead, both to hold his head up as he writes—and to act as shield from trying to sneak any glances that will effectively _destroy_ his concentration.

He drags Kalluk’s letter closer, and physically attempts to focus by using the end of the brush to tap on each word while he revisits some of their questions. When Zuko decides to drop his voice an octave and go louder, Sokka devolves to just frantically tapping the brush handle against the letter, as he tries to remember literally _anything_ about his experiences with the Council of Elders. His only saving grace right now—the only thing keeping him even remotely focused on his response, is that he knows what Zuko really sounds like when he’s getting his dick stroked.

“Stop faking it,” Sokka spits out, harsher than he meant, and he actually sags against the palm still pressed to his forehead when he receives a surprised but genuine moan in response. Zuko doesn’t stop his hand—Sokka knows, he can hear it—but he does go quiet, just for a moment.

“What,” he pauses to gulp more air in, before continuing, “makes you think I’m faking it?”

About six different reasons fly to Sokka’s tongue, and he figures that if he’s about to poke all of the holes in Zuko’s terrible, horrible, _unfair_ plan then he might as well get to look him in the eye when he does it.

(It’s an excuse, he knows. He’s accepted it and himself and also knows that if he doesn’t get to look at his husband in the next five seconds, his dick is going to implode. Or he will. Or _both_.)

Sokka looks up—

He’s sure his vision whites out for a second, from the insane amount of desire that just seized his heart at what is going on in front of him.

Zuko may have been trying to pack on the sex appeal in his noises, but he was undoubtedly fully enjoying himself the entire time. His pants have been shoved down his thighs, the sash holding his tunic together tossed to the floor to give Zuko more room to feel himself up. His roaming hand is fast, almost in time to the hand on his cock, moving in an endless cycle of scratching over his hard nipples, dragging down his stomach, and even further down underneath his balls to tease himself, before sliding right back up and starting it all over.

He catches Sokka staring right as he’s about to rub his fingers down his perineum, and the surprised whimper he lets out is loud, louder than any of the exaggerated noises from before, and Zuko actually spasms.

Sokka’s head just barely misses the wet ink when he solidly drops it onto the desk.

That’s the kind of noise he makes when he’s trying to get Sokka’s fingers inside him. It’s one of Sokka’s _favorites_.

“ _Zuko._ ”

The long scrapping of chair legs rockets Sokka back to attention, his head snapping up—and his mouth promptly drops open, at the sight of Zuko making quick work of dragging his chair around the desk to settle it flush against Sokka’s own.

Sokka can do nothing but stare. At his husband’s bare ass, once he’s kicked off his pants before he sits back down, at his hard cock that begs for Sokka’s touch, and then at Zuko’s curling lips and golden eyes slanted in a challenge. He whines, and falls to Zuko.

But then, in a complete act of evil, Zuko settles his free hand on Sokka’s jaw and pushes his head forward, back to his papers. His voice is commandingly formal, without a single hint of how truly undone he really feels, when he says, “Concentrate, Sokka.”

“Holy shit,” Sokka says, stunned. Oh, so this is a _game_ now. “Again, _evil_.”

“You’ve used that one already,” Zuko hums, nonplussed, as he leans back and puts his other hand right back on his dick. “Think of something better.”

Sokka doesn’t respond for a second, distracted by the slightly slick fingers still lingering on his jawline, and then says, with feeling: “Fuck you.”

He’s rewarded with a burst of genuine laughter—another one of his favorite noises—and Sokka yanks his head to the side to try to suck Zuko’s fingers into his mouth. Except Zuko’s faster, snatching them away before he can do it, and Sokka gets his face pushed back towards the desk again for his efforts.

“Okay,” he firmly says, as he looks down in grim determination. He can’t remember a single thing he’s written so far. “ _Sure_. Focus on this letter and _not_ at all on my hot husband as he gets himself off right next to me. That seems totally doable.”

Zuko’s hand slows down, and he tilts his head in thought. “Huh. Well, when you put it that way.”

The desk drawer next to Sokka is opened and shut before he can blink, and then Zuko is dropping lower into his chair to hike one of his legs onto the desk—his fingers dip, lightening quick, into the pot before he drops it onto the desk, right next to the inkstone, and then brings his hand down to rest lubed fingers against his entrance.

The challenging smirk Sokka gets as Zuko waits for his response, fingers circling around his hole like he’s got all the time in the world, makes Sokka want to go a little feral.

Zuko’s other leg is pressed up tight against his, and Sokka clamps his left hand down on his thigh, intent on sliding it right up to where it belongs, before it’s cleanly knocked away.

“Spirits,” he murmurs, because really there’s nothing more to say in the face of all _this,_ especially when the air is knocked from his lungs while watching Zuko slowly sink a finger into himself. “ _Spirits_.”

“S- _haa_ ,” Zuko just says, around a pleased smile. His entire body undulates as he slowly fingers himself, and he moans low in his throat when he crooks the digit the right way that makes his body jump. “O-Okay, now—go back to your work.”

 _Fuck_ work. “Let me do that for you.”

“Mn,” Zuko laughs a little, and his eyes slip closed as he teases his hole with a second finger. “No.”

“Let me at least kiss you while you do it.”

“Nn—nope. Focus.”

Sokka’s going to _scream_.

“This is murder,” Sokka declares. He hasn’t looked away from Zuko’s fingers. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Zuko’s knee knocks into his own in warning. “ _Shh,_ don’t say that too loud! You’re just asking for guards to break down the door—”

“ _Good_ , because I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a heart attack if you don’t let me touch you.”

“Agni,” Zuko punches out a laugh, and Sokka is treated to the sweet sound of it turning into a sharp moan when Zuko’s second finger joins the first inside him. “No. Finish your letter. You’ve only got so much time left, Sokka.”

He’s right. Sokka glances at the clock and curses harshly. If he wants to finish his response and send it out before his meeting with time left over, he needs to do it fast.

“Royals are brats,” Sokka says savagely, and then amends, “ _You’re_ a brat.”

Zuko grins, and tilts his hips to make a show of it when he presses his fingers deep inside himself. “That—y-yeah, that one’s pretty true.”

Sokka’s hand _flies_ over the paper.

His brush strokes are wildly irregular; he keeps forgetting to dip the bristles into the inkstone, forcing him to rewrite over too many faintly inked sentences for his liking. There are probably entire words missing, and he’s certain he’s reverted to his cryptic shorthand to go even faster, but he can’t focus enough to actually be able to tell. Not when every single inch of him is solely tuned in to Zuko, drinking up every noise from his pretty lips and memorizing every pleasured jolt against his own thigh as Zuko works himself open.

Zuko is completely unabashed; Sokka can’t look, but he _knows_ that Zuko has turned his head to him. He can feel the heat of Zuko’s gaze burn into his skin, using Sokka’s profile as his way to get himself off—and Sokka’s proven right when he slowly licks his lips. Zuko keens, and his shaking thigh very nearly bounces high enough up to hook itself over Sokka’s knee.

Fuck, this is the worst moment of his _life_.

Suddenly, Zuko’s hand leaves his cock to dig his nails into the meat of Sokka’s thigh, and he whispers out an urgent, “Switch hands.”

“What?”

“Switch the hand you’re writing with.”

Sokka does, and Zuko immediately snatches his free hand to guide it down to his cock and—Sokka’s not sure who moans louder, once his fingers wrap around Zuko. His hand automatically starts stroking slow, like how he wanted to before, and also a little for his own sanity.

“H-have I ever told you how good you are at multitasking?” Zuko asks, trying and utterly _failing_ at sounding casual. Sokka’s hips involuntarily buck at how raspy deep his voice has gotten, and he tightens his fist for Zuko to fuck into. “ _Ah, fuck—_ f-feel free to show that off, love.”

Sokka can feel himself tipping over in his seat, from both desire and sheer incredulity; he has to plant an elbow onto the desk and shove his head into his hand to keep himself upright. He stares at Zuko’s glistening red cockhead, and he chuckles in amazed disbelief. “Oh, you _bastard_. This is so not helping me get this done faster, asshole.”

“Helping? You’re looking for help?” Zuko’s wrecked smile sharpens, and he glances at Sokka mischievously. “Okay, then I’ll be helpful by saying you could always bend me over this desk and fuck me after, if you’re looking for incentive to finish faster.”

Sokka’s back arches as his vision swims at the idea of fucking into the heat of his husband, and he lets out a pleased gasp. “Fuck—”

“Is that good enough for you?” Zuko purrs. “I know how much you love to watch how you slide into me. Want to get on my hands and knees for you, and cum on your dick. Sokka, _love_ , will you let me?”

Sokka feels himself starting to tremble, and he has to actually close his eyes to keep himself in check. He’s ready to throw a tantrum over all of this—he’s so turned on, he knows there’s definitely a large wet patch on the front of his pants, and he wants horribly to fuck Zuko on his desk so hard it _breaks_ but—

“How,” Sokka whispers around his shock. “ _How_ the fuck are you actually keeping the upper hand right now?”

“Because you’re a dedicated mentor and I’m—I’m getting exactly what I want.” Zuko’s voice is absolutely drenched in victory, because he’s _right_ , and in this moment Sokka hates him a little for it.

In revenge, he tightens his grip and twists his hand on an upward stroke at the same time that Zuko’s fingers back push in, just so he can watch Zuko practically jack-knife himself off his chair with a high moan.

Which, might not be much of a punishment, since Sokka is pretty sure his body is now twitching in time to Zuko’s steady stream of whimpers as he gets closer to his release. Sokka forces himself to loosen his hold to _actually_ be mean, and Zuko’s venomous glare and huffing tells him he succeeds this time.

“ _Sokka_ ,” he demands, and Sokka refuses to comply. He picks the brush back up, while also keeping a careful side-eye on his husband, and Zuko fumes. “Alright, _fine_. I know a better way then, if you’re not going to be helpful.”

Sokka is about to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but then Zuko is knocking his hand away to haul himself to his feet and lean over the desk. He knocks a few papers aside to prop himself up, and then reaches behind to sink three fingers back inside himself.

Sokka—

Sokka is absolutely screwed.

He distantly registers that he’s dropped the brush and possibly toppled the inkstone, spilling ink everywhere and probably on his pants, but he’s also realized that if he sits back in his chair then he can get the perfect view of Zuko’s hole stretching around his fingers. Zuko is shaking, more than he had been in the chair, just barely being able to hold himself up on one hand, and his ass pushes back into his hand in a desperate search for more.

And he sounds so _good_. He’s gone back to chanting Sokka’s name, low at first and then ramping up in volume when Sokka rewards him by running his hand as far up Zuko’s back as he can and back down again, before he gently presses on Zuko’s ass to push him against the desk. Zuko startles slightly at the feel of the wood on his thighs, and shivers harder at Sokka’s hands spreading his cheeks for an even better view, but he doesn’t try to remove his hand precariously holding himself up to push him away, and well, Sokka isn’t going to let that opportunity pass him by.

Zuko doesn’t see when Sokka sneaks the jar of lube over to dip his fingers in, but he does jerk to full attention when Sokka quickly skims them up the back of his thigh and across his balls. He wastes no time in pulling his fingers out when Sokka gently tugs on his wrist and—as soon as Sokka is entering him with three of his own, Zuko crumples. His shaking moan is low, long, and impossibly _grateful._ He eagerly sticks his ass out more to chase Sokka’s fingers and _oh_ , if Sokka had thought the image of Zuko fingering himself before was good, then seeing how easily Zuko sucks in his own fingers is positively addicting.

“Are you, _ah—_ are you f-fingering me with your gloves still on?”

Zuko throws his head to the side to try to look over his shoulder at Sokka with his good eye. He’s so completely blissed out and red, his wrecked voice like sparks against Sokka’s skin, and Sokka just _has_ to get his hand on his husband’s dick again.

“Yeah,” he pants, and he rubs in deeper so Zuko can feel how the leather at the base of his fingers bunches slightly around his hole. Sokka maneuvers his other hand so Zuko can also feel the difference between the soft leather and small tease of his bare palm on his cock. “Both hands still.”

Sokka is so incredibly thankful that Zuko had craned his head backwards to look at him, because he gets to watch as Zuko’s eyes involuntarily flutter at the realization. With a loud, punched out exhale, he solidly drops his head onto his arms and grinds back and forth even faster between Sokka’s hands. The sight is _amazing_ for Sokka, and he can’t help but lean over and run his tongue around his working fingers, before moving down to lick over his balls—and Zuko _yelps_. “Oh _fuck_ , Sokka, I’m going to cum—”

“If you do now, are you still going to be up for me fucking you?”

Zuko gasps hard, his entire body stuttering, and suddenly he can’t keep still—he’s fucking himself back onto Sokka’s fingers and forward into his fist, his hands alternate from dragging over his desk and digging his nails over the edges, and Zuko’s head is on a constant swivel as he repeatedly nods his head and frantically chants “yes yes yes _yes,_ ” before he tightens up and comes with a silent shout, with Sokka’s hands riding him through it.

Sokka doesn’t let up, keeps pushing Zuko through his orgasm until his back spasms in a way that has him gradually slowing down. As soon as his hands still, Zuko slumps back onto the desk, head turned and openly panting as he squints back at Sokka. It takes him a second to speak, and he has to let out an exhausted chuckle before he can finally muster the energy to say, “ _Fuck_ , Sokka.”

And Sokka, so entranced with the vision of a fucked out and boneless Zuko sprawled in front of him, completely naked and spent in his own _office_ , finally comes back to the reality that he’s still at their desk, ass just barely on the edge of his chair, and he’s _so_ fucking hard.

“Fuck, _Zuko_ ,” he rushes to a stand, to Zuko’s growing grin, and paws at his belt. “Fuck, did you come on your desk?”

“Oh, definitely. I’m going to make you clean it.” Zuko watches until Sokka’s finally gotten his pants pulled down far enough to free his dick, before licking his lips and moving to properly prop himself back up on the desk. As he does, he pauses when he recognizes the papers in front of Sokka’s hastily pushed back chair. “Wait, did you finish your letter?”

Sokka has already dipped his fingers into the pot before stroking the lube over his cock, and doesn’t even bother to look in that direction. Honestly, he can’t even remember.

Instead, he gets a hand on one of Zuko’s cheeks, spreads him open, and lines himself up.

“ _Fuck_ the letter,” he growls, and pushes in.

His quick inhale at the tightness is drowned out by Zuko’s happy moan, and Sokka slides a hand up to clamp onto his shoulder to steady them both as he bottoms out. “Just—just don’t cum on them, and we’ll be fine.”

“Fuck,” Zuko agrees. “Don’t care—fucking _move_.”

* * *

Barely a week later, Sokka receives a response from Kalluk.

They’re both in Zuko’s office when Liu Wei drops it off, and as soon as Sokka recognizes the seal he lets out a laugh. “ _Ha_ , oh this is going to be interesting.”

It takes Zuko a few seconds to register what Sokka is referring to, and once he does his eyebrow springs up in surprise. “Aren’t they still in the South Pole? That was a quick turnaround.”

“Eh, pretty standard for them,” Sokka says while he opens the envelope. “And I was able to get my letter back out to them the same day. Even with… _certain_ distractions.”

Sokka’s leer makes Zuko roll his eyes, but there’s an indulgently accomplished grin on his face. Gradually though, his eyebrow scrunches in vague confusion. “Huh, you managed to send it out that night still? I don’t remember that.”

“Wait—” Sokka pauses in unfolding the letter, and stares over at his husband in delighted shock. “ _Wait_ , Zuko, are you telling me that I fucked you so good on your desk that you don’t _remember_ me sending the letter out afterwards? _Babe_. I literally used your messenger hawk to do it before I left for my meeting.”

Zuko glowers at him. “Shut the _fuck_ up and help your coworker.”

“Best thing I’ve heard all day,” Sokka sings in response, and takes Zuko’s embarrassed swat on his arm in stride.

Occasionally, when Sokka reads correspondence, he hums at its contents, particularly if it’s mail from close friends. Zuko doesn’t think he’s aware he’s doing it, and sometimes he’ll quietly ask after what was written, just so he can also get a distracted hum in his direction. He does this now, and Sokka gives a quiet noise of acknowledgment like usual—but suddenly it’s cut short, and _suddenly_ Zuko is a lot more alert when he watches a dawning look of embarrassed horror overcome Sokka’s face and his cheeks flame red.

As soon as Sokka whispers “ _Tui and La_ ,” Zuko is eagerly reaching out to snatch the letter from his hand. Because he may not remember much after, but he intimately remembers how the whole writing process went down.

Zuko reads, and then he’s _cackling_.

“’I can’t thank you enough, Director Sokka,’” He gleefully recites, in a perfectly horrible impersonation of Kalluk’s voice. “’Your advice is always so helpful, and all of your recommendations were spot on. I did what you suggested, and I got my proposal approved on the first re-attempt!’”

“’ _But_ ,’” Zuko says, and the singular word is so dramatically emphasized that it makes Sokka’s head drop straight into his hands with a groan. “’It’s always so funny how you are when you get excited over sharing ideas. I appreciate that you’re willing to share this side of yourself with me, and I enjoy watching you get _so_ overtaken with an idea that you sometimes forget to refill the ink on your brush—’” Zuko has to stop to laugh, and Sokka groans even louder to hide his own— “’or that you even ripped the paper a little! To be honest, it’s inspiring, and I can only hope that one day I can replicate this same kind of fervor for our field when I have my own mentees!’”

“ _Stop,_ Zuko, holy shit, please don’t keep going,” Sokka begs. There’s a pause when they both look up to make eye contact—and then they’re both bursting into hysterics.

Zuko tries to bring a hand up to hide his laughter, but there’s no denying his mirth as he looks over the rest of their letter. “ _Agni,_ they keep going with their compliments too—”

“I cannot _believe,_ ” Sokka manages to get out between wheezes, “that I wrote a letter to my _colleague_ and then basically fucked you over it.”

“Well, at least they didn’t seem to catch on to that. Apparently, you’re just _passionate_ about your work,” Zuko says, and laughs even harder when Sokka scrubs at his face before leaning back in his seat and letting out a sarcastically quiet shriek, arms thrown to the ceiling.

It sets them off again, giggling into each other as Sokka bemoans his fate and his duties and his _brat_ of a husband, but he doesn’t stop smiling through all of his complaining. Zuko watches him, at his easy happiness even in the middle of his dramatic self-pity, and it spreads such a tender, vulnerable warmth throughout his body that makes his smile go just a little soppy.

Zuko loves this man so much.

To hide his sentimental smile, Zuko turns to set the letter back on the desk in front of Sokka. “Okay, well, do you need to respond to them again right away, or are they all set with their proposal thing?”

Sokka, still chuckling, props his elbows on the arms of the chair for a moment, and then reaches over to pick it up. “Yeah, I probably should, to at least give them pointers on how to move forward after the approvals stage.”

“Hm, well,” Before Sokka can grab the inkstone, Zuko drops his hand over his, clasping his fingers over his wrist, and heavily smirks at Sokka. “Maybe I should stay while you work on it. Never know when you’ll need some help again in finding some extra _passion_ while you’re writing.”

Sokka’s initial surprise is there for mere seconds before he’s wearing a matching grin, and then he deftly twists his trapped hand around to grab hold of Zuko’s forearm and pull him into his space.

“Huh, _well_ ,” he mimics, and Zuko’s mouth falls open a little in anticipation at the way his voice has dropped. Sokka smoothly spreads his legs to seat his husband comfortably on top of his lap, and rests his hands on Zuko’s hips. “Aren’t I so _lucky_ that you’re always so generous and _giving._ Hm, Zuko?”

**Author's Note:**

> a zukka in love is a zukka that endlessly work to annoy each other~  
> (please don't ask me what sokka does for a living bc i will not be able to tell you anything other than that he's very smart lol)  
> -  
> if you want, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/leopardfringe) or [tumblr](https://chitsangenthusiast.tumblr.com/)!


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